The Moon is on Our Side
by thequeergiraffe
Summary: Genderswapped wincest fluffiness. Just what it says on the tin. Set during season 2. Written for the femslash February initiative on Tumblr. One-shot. Rated for pre-slash.


It started out innocently enough.

Rain was beating down on the windshield of the Impala so hard that Deanna couldn't see the turn-in for the motel, much less the lines of the parking space. She gave it her best guess and hauled ass alongside Sam to the front desk, the pair of them shaking off torrents of water as soon as they were inside.

The clerk was less than amused by the mess they made, which might explain his dickish glee when he explained that the only room they had left in the entire motel was a single queen, non-smoking. Deanna looked out at the sheets of rain coating the windows and obscuring the parking lot and shrugged. "We'll take it." They were getting a little low on funds anyway, and it wasn't like they'd never shared before.

Sam took a shower once they got to the room, but Deanna just toweled off her hair and flicked on the TV, cheering a little when she found a rerun of Dr. Sexy, M.D. She flipped it over to one of those ridiculous Spanish telenovelas, though, once she heard the water shut off in the bathroom. Sure, all of Deanna's preferred programming was kind of embarrassing, but Dr. Sexy was just plain private. There were some things she kept for herself, and the good doctor was one of them.

Padding out on bare feet, Sam looked at the TV as she dried her hair. "I thought I heard some medical show," she said, flipping her hair back and running her fingers through it, the damp towel falling carelessly to the ground.

"Huh." Deanna switched the TV off and shrugged. "Nope. Just my soaps."

Sam rolled her eyes and stretched out her back, and Deanna admired her sister's slim physique from a standpoint of professional interest, nothing more. Those shapely thighs peeking out of Sam's little shorts could save Deanna's life someday, and the flatness of her stomach was of concern only because Deanna wondered if Sam wasn't getting enough to eat, that's all. As if to prove that very point to herself, Deanna cleared her throat and asked, "Sammy, you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said, giving Deanna a strange look as she slipped into bed, pulling the covers up around her waist. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just checking," Deanna said off-handedly, reaching up and switching off the light over her side of the bed. She shimmied down into the warmth of the comforter and closed her eyes. "It's my job to look after you, right?"

Sam was quiet for a long moment, her eyes narrowed contemplatively. Then she reached up and switched off her own light, settling down under the covers with a soft sigh.

Minutes ticked by. Deanna breathed in slowly, breathed out slowly, but sleep evaded her. Beside her, Sam fidgeted and turned and fought with her pillow until nearly an hour had passed and Deanna couldn't take it any longer. "Would you settle down? How am I supposed to get my four hours with you flailing all over the place?"

"Shut up, jerk," Sam said, sitting up and shoving Deanna roughly.

Deanna sat up, too, and gave her sister's arm a nasty pinch. "Make me, bitch."

To the collective shock of exactly no one, they wound up on the floor. Deanna was on her back, Sam straddled across her, but Deanna had a fistful of Sam's hair and she was tugging it mercilessly, both of them laughing and gasping and heedless of the fact that it was two in the morning and they undoubtedly had neighbors who were trying to sleep. "Ow, ow, ow, uncle," Sam cried after a particularly vicious tug of her hair, and Deanna relented with a huffed laugh and a sigh of, "Never try to best your elders, Sammy. You know I kick your ass ten times out of ten."

"Yeah, whatever," Sam panted, rolling off and flumping to the ground beside Deanna. Their hands brushed as she settled, and neither woman made any attempt to move away. Deanna chalked it up to being tired, ignoring the warm glow in her chest and the way even their breathing seemed to sync up, Sam's labored breaths perfectly mirroring her own. She couldn't ignore Sam's fingers sliding in between her own, though, interlocking as Sam smiled and breathed, "I missed this. When I was at Stanford, I mean. I don't think I realized I missed it, not at the time. But I did."

"We're not gonna have a chick flick moment, are we?" Deanna grumbled over the drumming of her heart. Her palm felt sweaty against Sam's, her body bathed in inexplicable heat. Half of her wanted to jump up, tug on her boots, and run as fast and as far as she could. The other, more traitorous half wanted to move a little closer.

Sam made the decision for her, turning on her side and wrapping her mile-long limbs around Deanna's arm. "Come on, I'm being serious." Deanna's eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that she could just make out Sam's puppy-dog eyes and her pouting mouth. "I forgot how much I liked this, you know?"

"Liked what?" Deanna asked, in barely a whisper. She pulled her arm free from Sam's death grip and slid it under Sam's head instead, closing the last gap of space between them. It seemed wrong, the way they could slot together so perfectly. Like it was an unspoken confirmation of something that should never and could never be.

"This," Sam answered insistently, nudging up against Deanna. "Being here, on the road. With you. Fighting like idiots at two in the morning. Being able to check with my own eyes and hands-" she brushed her fingers against Deanna's stomach, a ghost of a touch- "that you're okay. It killed me that you never called. I felt like I was always waiting for you to call, but you never did."

"Phone works two ways," Deanna said, her voice rough. She shifted against Sam, scooted minutely closer, her hand trailing a slow path up and down the small of Sam's back. "Where's all this coming from, anyway?"

Sam didn't answer for a long time, long enough that Deanna thought she'd fallen asleep right there on the floor. Then, her voice small, Sam replied, "Seeing you in that hospital bed. Deanna, I thought…" She didn't finish that thought, just shook her head, her hair tickling Deanna's chin.

"Hey." Deanna turned on to her side, facing Sam, and slid her arm around her sister's waist. "I'm here. I'm okay."

"Yeah," Sam agreed tremulously, "you're here today. But Deanna…you're not invincible. And…I know it sounds stupid, but it feels like I'm realizing that for the first time. You could have died. Hell, you practically did. And I…" She shook her head and tucked her face into Deanna's neck, suddenly, her breath warm and shaky. "I don't know what I would have done."

"I know," Deanna said, and she meant it. If Sam died, she'd go absolutely crazy. There'd only be one reason for living after that, and that reason was vengeance. Once that was done…no, Deanna didn't know what she would do without Sam. There wouldn't be a point. If Sam were gone, Deanna would want to go, too. And maybe that was unhealthy, maybe it was obsessive, maybe it wasn't the way normal siblings felt about each other, but Deanna found she didn't much care. Sam was her everything, and that was that.

Sam shifted against her, running her fingers along Deanna's ribs and making her shiver. "Do you want to talk about Dad now? Because…I mean, I know you said-"

"That is the absolute last thing I wanna do right now," Deanna said, shaking her head forcefully. "Drop it, all right?"

"Okay," Sammy agreed. She was quiet and still for a moment, before leaning up and resting her knobby chin on Deanna's shoulder, looking down into her sister's eyes. "So…what's at the top of list?"

"Top of what list?"

"The list of things you want to do right now," Sam said, with the smallest of smiles.

There was no way Sam meant what it sounded like she meant. There was no way she _didn't_ mean it, either. Deanna searched her eyes for a long moment, her breath caught in her throat and her heart practically trying to beat its way out of her chest.

Then Sam laughed and shook her head. "Are you going to freak out?" She sat up and looked down at Deanna, that smug little smile still playing at her lips and her hair falling into her face. "Because you kind of look like you're about to freak out."

"Shut up," Deanna said, her voice a little hoarse. She reached up and brushed Sam's hair out of her face, earning a softer smile. "I'm not freaking out."

"No?" Sam licked her lips and leaned down, close enough that Deanna could feel her breath on her lips, but far enough away that they could still meet each other's eyes. "How about now?"

It felt like there was freakin' _fire_ beneath Deanna's skin. She swallowed hard and shook her head gently. "Nope."

Sam lifted one eyebrow, her eyes glittering wickedly. "Really?" she asked, incredulous. "Okay…how about…" She leaned in closer, her chest pressing against Deanna's and their mouths almost brushing. "Now?"

"Mm-mm," Deanna mumbled, barely breathing.

"Deanna," Sam whispered, and then their lips did brush, sending a shudder of _want_ down Deanna's spine, "is this okay? Seriously."

"What do you think? Idiot." Deanna slid her hands up to Sam's waist, her fingers curling into Sam's worn-soft T-shirt. "Would you just do it already?"

Sam was grinning as their lips finally met, the ass. They kissed for a few long, languorous minutes, just enjoying the feel of it, neither of them pushing too hard or too fast. Deanna could've spent the night there on that floor- or hell, a year, a lifetime, an eternity- but eventually Sam sat up and heaved a contented sigh (as she brushed at her lips with the back of her hand, making Deanna want to tease her even as her heart was doing flip-flops). She looked down at Deanna with a mixture of hunger and undisguised awe. "Can we…?" She cleared her throat and flitted a glance at the bed. "Should we…?"

"Yeah," Deanna said softly, sitting up as well. Because truth be told, when it came to Sam, Deanna never could say no.


End file.
